


questions under the stars

by twnkwlf



Category: Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twnkwlf/pseuds/twnkwlf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She half-expected him to come flying through her window with the cape and everything. But he didn't come through her window. He tapped on her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	questions under the stars

Their first date (if you didn’t count strolls through UFO’s and averting the apocalypse together as ”dates”) was at the office Christmas party.

When the invitations went out, everyone was a bit reluctant to RSVP. Granted, the city was in the middle of a massive clean up. Getting to work through all the bypasses and new train routes was hard enough without having to commute after hours. And with the death toll up in the thousands, most people on the floor had lost someone in the attack, which inspired a lot vacation days, a lot of tearful colleagues melting down in the bathrooms at lunch. Not to mention the Metropolitan economy was on the verge of breaking under the stress of...well...aliens. Mostly everyone was just trying to get used to the colossal shift in their lives- aliens existed and there was abundant proof. There was an alien flying around out there while you typed away at your laptop and photocopied your bosses research papers.

Christmas seemed small on the scale of things.

But on Thursday morning, the intern Clark Kent, rather nervously approached Miss Lois Lane with just the hint of a smile. He held a cup of strong coffee and the xeroxed invitation in his hands.

She returned the smile. Full of secrets.

“Are you going?” he asked her.

“Going where?”

He handed her the paper and she scanned it while taking the coffee from him (as an intern, technically his job was to bring her coffee, but she still felt a stir of pride and excitement when she sipped it and found that he got her cream to sugar ratio perfect). Office party. Friday at 8:00. Christmas carols. Secret Santa. All you can drink.

She looked up at him (and she noticed how his blue eyes were recognizable to her, they would always be, even with the thickest of glasses).

“Are you asking me to go with you?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

She didn’t miss a beat.

“Pick me up at 7:30.”

It was a date.

* * *

  
She half-expected him to come flying through her window with the cape and everything. Truth be told, she loved the flying. It was the thrill of it at first, but after a few trips out on dark nights, him dressed all in black civies instead of the suit, she got used to the whooshing, weightless feeling. It bugged her because she had no right to get used to it- how often does a girl get the chance to free form above the entire city?  
  
Maybe what she really loved about flying was that he held her up, and it was really just the two of them up there, with no interruptions, no voyeurs.

But he didn’t come through her window. He tapped on her door.

He wore those fake glasses of his (which she found to be secretively cute, though she teased him) and a nice shirt that looked like it needed ironing. She smoothed a wrinkle on his chest.

“You look beautiful,” he said, of course, because as much as he was an alien, he was even more a country boy. She kissed his cheek.

“You need an iron.”

They took a car that Clark had just bought with his first few paychecks and it was a dumpy, embarrassing sort of Sudan with rust and a loud engine. He looked hilarious hunched behind the steering wheel, eyes knit in concentration on the road ahead of him. They laughed about the comparison between this vehicle and the vehicles they had driven together more recently. He said,

“I’m not sure a Volks Waggen will ever live up to that ship.”  
“  
She held his arm and said,

“Yeah, but it’s just so hard to get the mechanic to order Krytonian parts. Takes months.”

* * *

 

At the party, she drank champagne and talked with the new secretary and her fiance about her engagement. Clark didn’t drink a thing. He loomed in the background for a little while, not looking out of place, but blending in. It amazed her how much he blended in.

There were conversations of Superman. There always were, though most people shut up when they noticed Lois was listening. She guessed that they feared her International Security status on the subject. No one, save the few who were witnesses to the attack, ever asked her about him because she was under direct order of the Government to keep her mouth shut. Something about the way everyone at the Planet adhered to the privacy made her think that the Security Council had passed out a memo when she wasn’t looking. In any case, she was never badgered, and never faced with having to grit her teeth about Superman’s identity while Clark was just feet away. She was grateful for that.

By the time she found him again, mostly everyone was drunk and the music was a few knots louder.

He put his hand on the small of her back and, God, did she love that.

She told him that it was getting stuffy in there. They escaped the party and he scooped her up, flew her to the roof of the building, where they sat underneath the revolving planet. He touched her cheek like he was asking for permission, but Lois was less considerate. She grabbed him by the shirt, put his mouth on hers, and it was warm. It was perfect in a way it ought not to be.

“I don’t care that you aren’t human,” she said.

He half smiled, questioningly.

They made out like teenagers for just five minutes before Lois told him to take her home.

* * *

 

His body was intimidating. The tense moment before he put his mouth on her, she thought that. The muscles and strength hidden inside him was tangible when he was naked against her bed with her. He was hard like a stone. And he whispered something about hurting her and caution before she stuck her tongue in his mouth to shut him up.

Her bed rocked with them. She was no virgin, she was no sweet, virtuous woman who needed to be worked over. She urged him to go harder and faster with her hips (later, she would find a handprint embedded in the metal of her bed frame). Their breaths were musical, fast and dripping with the tones of their voices, as if they were both scared of giving themselves away. She cursed and bit as she was coming with his hands moving supernaturally fast between their legs and his hips slamming against hers in a way that would bruise. There was such a look of concentration and ferocity on his face. She knew that he was trying to control himself that he had to control himself because the wrong movement would kill her, and she wondered if he would break her back doing this. It felt less like sex and more like a roller coaster ride- the fear of death close to the thrill.

But when he came, it was gentle.

* * *

 

He asked her what her plans were for Christmas. She would be given a well-deserved week off during which she would spend too much time doing research and watching cooking channel reruns. Her father was not one for holidays and celebration, she had long since gotten over the heartbreak of gift-less Christmas mornings, though she always got a card in the mail which he signed with an impersonal signature at the bottom.

Clark told her that Christmas was a quiet event for the Kent family because Johnathan’s relatives were dead and Martha’s lived too far away. It was turkey and homemade eggnog by the television light of a distant hockey game.

“That sounds nice,” she told him.

“You can’t spend Christmas alone. Come with me.”

And thus, Lois celebrated her first Christmas in years with the unlikely, small, and humble Kents.

Martha hummed as she cooked. Clark had shoveled the driveway in less than then seconds and was stretched out on the sofa watching sports highlights and commenting on how great dinner smelled. Lois felt a strange, disoriented moment of happiness that Martha seemed to catch onto while Clark cursed softly at a terrible pass that was made during a hockey game, while the timer for the turkey began to ring. She winked and bumped Lois on the hip as she unwrapped a salad. Lois blushed like a teenage girl.

After dinner, she bundled up in her coat and scarf, and Clark wore nothing but his t-shirt of course, and he took her by the waist like she was a particle of dust, lifted her into the sky with him. He kissed her and it started to snow, melting on the surface of his skin, turning to water droplets.

“Thank you for this,” she said, resting her head against his chest. Warm.  
  
“You can’t imagine how it feels,” he said.

“How what feels?”

She could feel him smile against her cheek. They flew up and away, higher than before, revolving so softly.

“To be Kal...and to be Clark at the same time. With you.”

She looked down at the Kent farm, the acres of land she could only see from that lofty height. With him.

“I love them both,” she said.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Dave Matthews' song "Where are you going". Thank you for reading.


End file.
